If You Leave Me Now // Marauders

Chapter Thirty-One

April, 2003 Grimmauld Place

If you would have told Harry a few years ago that he would find himself in the Black family library with his best friend and Draco sodding Malfoy, he would've called you bonkers.

But that's exactly what he was doing, pouring over weighty and ancient tomes that harbored some of the darkest and oldest magic to ever exist. Hermione had taken the day off, a complete testament to the dedication to their project. Malfoy also seemed to have a free day, and now sat in the corner with his glasses on, silent.

He wasn't the smartest when it came to written assignments, Harry could admit that. Everything he had learned well had came straight from action. From watching it happen and making himself do the same. He just didn't have the patience to read and take notes, and today was no different. 

After the war, they had all agreed together to go see the Mind Healer in Diagon Alley. It was only then that Harry had finally came clean about his treatment from the Dursley's, as well as his feelings about the way Dumbledore had treated him. Although they had all stopped seeing her, Harry was never able to complete the final assignment given to him.

To go see the Dursley's.

And for some odd reason, this was the thought that was continuing to rattle around in his head as he tried to focus  on the words on the page. Reading about the spiraling downfall of his own parents' deaths seem to be a mood dampener. Who would've guessed?

It wasn't just his parents dying that was weighing on him. In truth, he never really knew his parents. The memories he had of them were fabricated by the stories that people told. He thought he might remember the way that Lily's eyes looked, but then when he focused on it, he realized that he had made it up based on how many times someone had compared his own to her. 

No, the real truth was that the struggles of Evangeline and the Marauders was heartbreaking to have to feel through their words, given that he had felt something eerily similar throughout the Second War.

Blinking rapidly from staring off into space, Harry's eyes met Malfoy's, who raised one eyebrow in question at him.

Clearing his throat, Harry asked, "Found anything?"

Hermione's hair had continued to grow frizzier and frizzier as she picked at the flyaway pieces sticking out of her bun, "Kind of," she said, still looking at the book in her lap, "But I'm not sure it's helpful in actually finding her."

She motioned for both Harry and Draco to follow, leading them back to the familiar dining room. The files still laid open on one end, various papers and photos still magically stuck to the wall in front of them. 

"According to what this says, Magic, like Draco mentioned, is a sentient being on its own. It was given to the first magical person around the year 500."

"Merlin?" Draco asked.

Hermione nodded, continuing, "There isn't much about why  he was given magic, but he was. Others too, possibly. But there is a story about how Merlin contacted magic once."

"Hermione, why do I feel like it's exceptionally difficult and probably illegal?" Harry asked.

"It is exceptionally difficult, that is true. I don't even know that the three of us could accomplish it alone. But it isn't illegal, per se. More like ethically questionable."

"Ethically questionable?"

"Grey magic, Potter," Draco filled in, "It isn't inherently good or bad, but somewhere in between."